Getting my insane swagger back.

     I figured out what I want to get as my next tattoo. Of course, it will be after the move and I get settled in. My next tattoo will be the pic above. D&D fans would recognize it as the holy symbol of the god Olidammara. He is the Chaotic Neutral god of wine, women, song, and trickery. I like to describe him as a combination of Bacchus and the lighter side of Loki. Yes, it will be a conversation piece among my fellow geeks, but there is a symbolism that comes with the tattoo. It represents getting my insane swagger back.
     Today (actually, since it's 5 AM Wednesday, yesterday) at work, I listened to some steampunk music, part of which contained some pirate-themed songs, which put me in a good mood. I got in the mood to write more in my series Across the Multiverse; that was most likely because I plan for the second and fourth stories in the series to feature space pirates. So my mood was elevated.
     This coming month will be major holidays: October 25th (my beliefs state that a person's own birthday is the celebration of the birth of one's own savior) and Halloween. In the fall, I feel that I come alive again. New home with one of my best friends, extra check (I budget for two a month, there will be 3), and maybe a new girlfriend (if things go well when I meet Cammy).
     And things are looking up from the Lynn situation. People are coming out of the woodwork and telling me that it's not me; she's just messed up. I feel better and better each day being away from her. I was lamenting that she turned out to be like last year's girlfriend, when she could have been worse - like 2002's fiancee.
     Things are looking up. I just have to get through this move.

Self-analysis and new horizons

    I did some self-therapy; if you see enough shrinks, you tend to learn to analyze yourself. But anyway, I've come to an astounding conclusion!
1. I think I unconsciously ignore the red flags of a serial monogamist.
2. Serial monogamy is an addiction to the honeymoon period of a relationship.
3. Subconsciously, I stick with a serial monogamist because I want to cure them.
4. I still haven't come to grips with the fact that I couldn't cure my mom of her addiction.
5. Subconsciously, I keep trying to fix a female with an addiction because I want to cure my mom, but she died.
     In conclusion, I feel an unneeded sense of worthlessness because I couldn't cure them. But there's no reasoning or curing someone with an addiction. I'll keep this in mind as I go on to better things.

     Speaking of better things, over the past month and a half, I've put my feelers out there. And, well, I've started talking to someone. She's a librarian named Cammy. We've talked before, but this past evening, we expressed a mutual interest in meeting up and seeing where it goes. And we're both hoping for the best.
    Last night, she sent me a pic of her face without glasses, and I smiled brilliantly.
     We've both emotionally gotten our asses handed to us, so we'll take things slowly. I can imagine our first dozen encounters feeling like we're interviewing each other. Let's hope for the best.
     She has a 20 gauge shotgun, and I have a crossbow. We're batting around the first-date idea of doing target practice. It should be fun. I'm excited, but with reservations.

Get the word out.

   Every so often, especially after a break up, I like to write something humorous like this to make myself smile. With that in mind, please let the following people know I'm single.

1. Actress Rebel Wilson
2. Actor Crispin Glover
3. Half of Rammstein (Christoph, Olli, and Richard)
4. Adult model Ashley Sage Ellison
5. Adult actress Felicia Clover
6. Dark cabaret musician Voltaire
7. Actress Christina Ricci
8. Wrestler Batista
9. Adult model Renee Ross
10. Actor Ralph Feinnes

Here I sit, writing on the paper...

     There's so much going on with me, emotionally and in life. Over the past couple of years, I've been heartbroken twice and constantly financially fist-fucked.

     I've come to grips with all that happened with the Lynn situation. I even figured out that the baby wasn't even mine.
     And I've been hearing about my previous ex having a baby (when she swore there was no one else). That didn't bother me so much as give me that "ah-ha" I needed. I spoke to her briefly, and she gave me the typical liars' catch-phrase "I tried to tell you."
     I'm at the point where I'm dissecting these two bullshit events in my life, and trying to figure out how to avoid future catastrophes. Other than that, I don't know what to do. I'm not a physically vengeful person, but these two are bound to come up in casual conversation from time to time, and I'll tell whomever I can about how awful they are.
     I'm not looking to get into a relationship, but there are a few I like talking to. But I'm keeping it as flirtationships right now.

     From the IRS to job insecurity to car problems, my finances have taken a hit. I can't live in my apartment any more. Plans are in the works to move to Washington, Indiana, with my friend Courtney.
     We need each other right now. No, not 'that' way. She's strictly chickly. But we're close enough that I like to refer to her as "my lesbian lover". I think I might need someone around.
     We'll split bills and rent. My job, even though they fuck up my payroll, really wants to keep me. At least there's security in that department. I'm thinking, this weekend, I could go to Shortney's and see what things of mine would fit.

     My, I guess you'd call it, joie de vivre, is missing. Many people refer to their own joie de vivre as something different. Some call it their groove. Others call it their strut. I call mine my insane swagger.
     My insane swagger has been severely weakened. It's not there. I'm listless. I'm terrified of the world. My brazen grin rarely even makes a cameo appearance. My gallows humor isn't as spontaneous. Something's got to give. Something has to help.

My spring love; my summer heartache

     Late last year, I started a POF account. My headline was "Raggedy madman ISO a companion." It was a Dr. Who reference designed to maybe get the attention of other Whovians. I met someone in late January, Lynn (her middle name I came to regularly use). It was wonderful at first, but it ended up emotionally ripping me apart.

     When Lynn originally broke up with me in mid-May, she said she couldn't be in a relationship because she needed to take time to focus on her son.
     We stayed in touch, and in mid-June, I started getting flirty again and she was cool with it. She also said she was likely pregnant. A few days later, she confirmed it.
     For a month, we planned for a baby and talked about possibly restarting slowly. I'd send her sweet notes and she liked them.
     In mid-July, she lost the baby. She grieved for a week, then she barely talked much. Her Kik messenger was even off (she told me it was broke or something).
     August 28th, her boyfriend messaged me on her Kik, saying watch what I say to her because she's with him. I called her phone and he answered. He was contacting me while she was in the shower. He told me they were talking long-distance romantically since her birthday (a week after the breakup), and that he finally moved in around a week after she lost the baby. No final closure with me, just telling me all along she had been trying to stay busy after losing the pregnancy.

     When someone upsets or hurts me, I first lash out. Then I take time to gather my thoughts and then I start writing a rational, thoughtful letter. I did this last year with another flighty ex who didn't know what she wanted. I should compile the letters and write a book called "Anatomy of a Serial Monogamist." I wrote a four page letter analyzing my end of what happened. It was my way of saying "I know what you are, I know how you work. I'm demystifying you to show you I see through you. You can't hurt me anymore." It was one of the most honest, heartfelt, and visceral works I have ever done. I did what I could to be subtly vindictive, and tried to apply Churchill's definition of tact: "The ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip."
     The Architect from "The Matrix" was right: "Denial - The most predictable of human responses." She responded as others have. She rationalized her actions. She minimized the hurt she caused by downplaying what we had. She blamed me for being upset for not being told that she had someone else. It's what narcissistic sociopaths do when you call them out on their shit. I was frustrated because it was like they say about playing chess with a pigeon. No matter how good you are at chess, the pigeon just knocks the pieces over, shits on the board, and struts around victoriously.
     The letter must have served it's purpose. It hit a nerve because she was angry at what I said. She was so angry she called me on the phone instead of texting, as her texts grew more incomprehensible, possibly from shaky hands.

      It's been a few days, and I've come to understand what has upset me. I meant nothing to someone that meant so much to me. But that doesn't mean I'm worthless. Art is no less beautiful, just because it was displayed to a blind person. Same for music to deaf people.
     Also, I realized I can't fix her relationship addiction any more than I could fix my mom's alcohol addiction. She's done this her whole adult life, and no amount of shaming her or logical appeal will fix it.

     The best thing that came of this was that I got to learn how I am when I love someone. I learned the deep capacity of how I can love. I love having someone to shower with tender smiles and random poetry. People were so happy to see me like that.
     The worst thing about this, other than the heartache, was that I drifted out of sync with my beliefs. I wasted love on an ingrate, I committed the sin of self deception by ignoring the red flags, I committed solipsism by assuming she and I were on the same wavelength, among other things.

     I guess my Dr. Who metaphor fits. In my love life, I'm this quirky weird person who lands in someone's life, provides them with a fresh skewed perspective, and ingratiates himself with his off-beat charm. Then we go one this weird, wild adventure. But my companion ends up unable to stay with me for long. So off I go.